Darkly Bright
by diceandpokerchips
Summary: Childhood AU. A series of events that take place in the lives of two young thieves, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak. Meeting as young children, Dean and Castiel learn that, in a world where they'd learned to depend on nobody, they could rely on each other. Rated M for language and themes.
1. Between Harmony And Inspiration

**This fic will not progress as a regular fic, where each chapter follows on from the next. It's going to be a long series of oneshots, that jump around between events in Dean and Castiel's life. It won't in chronological order, but I'll post the order and their ages at the start of each chapter so you know where it fits.**

**If you're looking for a fic that mainly focuses on the romance between Dean and Castiel, you won't find it here. This is a slow build, that will concentrate mainly on their friendship and growing up together, but there will be a few chapters towards the end where this turn romantic, but that isn't the main focus.**

* * *

**Darkly Bright**

**Chapter One: Between Harmony And Inspiration**

_Dean is 18, Castiel is 16._

Peace. Dinner had been made and was currently cooking, Sam was upstairs in his room reading quietly, and John was in his study doing God knows what. Everything had been taken care of and the house was peaceful, which meant it was the perfect time for Dean to cram in more studying for the final he had the next day. It was all he'd been doing in his free periods, over lunch, during break; he'd even come straight home from school in order to have more time, instead of dropping Sam off and going to Cas' place like he normally would.

Taking a seat at the rickety dining table, Dean laid out the book he'd been making notes in all semester: Wuthering Heights. Considering it was about the Victorian era in England, which Dean had discovered over the course of the year he had very little interest in; it was pretty good. Not entirely based around romance, like most novels of the time. It focused more on revenge, petty spite, and jealousy. It was a book he would never have chosen to read if it hadn't been part of their syllabus, but he'd very much enjoyed it nonetheless.

Idly picking up his pen, Dean opened his book and read the first highlighted passage, copying down the key words and phrases. "Word syntax." He murmured, making a note of the narrator, Mr. Lockwood, and that the prologue was set after the events of the book. He knew roughly what to expect from the test the next day; he needed to compare and contrast Wuthering Heights with another book or play of his choosing, something relevant. Thanks to Castiel's suggestion, Dean had picked An Ideal Husband, a play by Oscar Wilde. It had saved him a lot of time in looking for something similar, and it had been exactly what he was looking for.

"What are you doing there, boy?" John's voice came from right behind Dean, making the boy startle and flinch, expecting another blow. The bruises from John's last lesson hadn't turned yellow yet, but they rarely had the chance to. Dean didn't let himself cower for long, knowing it was a sure fire way to set off his father. Any display of weakness on Dean's part was never tolerated by John.

"Studying, sir. I have my English Lit final tomorrow afternoon." The green-eyed boy replied respectfully, daring to raise his eyes to see what expression his father was wearing. A sober one, at the very least, which made him relax fractionally. It meant it would be less easy to earn a beating. Although that wouldn't last long. The thick, masculine fingers were already clutched around a beer bottle, which meant that Dean would need to be very careful before too long if he wanted to remain unscathed.

John grunted and leaned over to look at the papers in front of Dean, eventually turning to the book he was holding. Dean doubted that he'd even heard of the title. Satisfied that his son was telling the truth, John walked away and sat down in front of the TV, switching it on.

The barely audible sigh of relief Dean gave was short-lived as John found a football game, Kansas City Chiefs were apparently playing the Seahawks. Almost immediately, he began hurling abuse at the screen. Dean winced, but didn't dare speak up. It wasn't until he'd read the same paragraph three times over that he realised he was getting nowhere. He simply couldn't concentrate over the roaring of his father, and the sound of the blaring television.

Asking John to turn it down was completely out of the question. That was a guaranteed way to get his ass handed to him, along with a bellowed lecture about which of them paid the bills, and how much of an ungrateful son of a bitch Dean was. And the night of studying he had planned would end there, in favour of cleaning up any blood from his lesson.

But he couldn't go anywhere right now, if he left the room so soon after John had entered it, he'd know it was because Dean was scared and there would be hell to pay. So Dean swallowed, and made a note of the page numbers that had key passages. Distressed over how much time he was wasting, Dean dutifully waited until half time to retrieve another beer and approach his Dad, getting ready to duck in case the bottle or even a fist came flying his way.

"Sir? I think I've left one of my books over at Cas' house. It's important for the test, I was wondering if I could go and get it."

Asking was better than telling him outright. Dean had learned that long ago.

John let the bottle lower from his mouth and turned to face his son. He sneered at the full bottle in Dean's hand and took it from him without an acknowledgement or word of thanks.

"Kid's a waste of space. Don't see why you spend so much time over there anyhow, there's nothing wrong with your own house, Dean." John said sharply. "What about dinner?"

Dean forced himself not to react to the slight towards his best friend. Any show of defiance wouldn't bode well. "It's in the oven, sir, I thought I'd take it out before I go and get my book. I'm not really all that hungry anyway. Nerves, I guess. For the final."

John was silent for a long moment, and then gave a curt nod. "Stay over there tonight, if the boy's parents don't mind. I don't want you coming back here and interrupting the game, you hear me? And make sure you pass this test. I don't want any excuses."

Relief flooded through him and Dean nodded gratefully. "Thank you, sir." He shuffled away as quickly as possible, heading into the kitchen to get the lasagne out of the oven, plating some up from Sam and John and setting it on the table. Hurriedly, he packed up his things, sliding the book and his notes into a bag, which he threw over his shoulder and he left as quietly as possible.

He didn't worry about Sam anymore. John never laid a finger on him.

He took the Impala, the one good thing his Dad had ever given him, and headed down the street, going the wrong way just in case John looked out of the window. Because of Castiel's circumstances, he didn't like anyone knowing where he lived, and Dean liked that he would be able to have somewhere to hide just in case he ever needed to escape. The one time John had insisted on seeing where Castiel lived, they'd used their acquired skill set to break into a house on the other side of town. The owners were away on holiday, so they'd taken advantage of that.

To his credit, Castiel had thought of everything. The pictures were replaced with photographs of him as a kid with his own parents, and he'd answered the door when Dean and John had arrived with the polite excuse that his parents had gone out to dinner, and would they like to come in?

As expected, John had declined gruffly, and left Dean and Castiel to it. He'd never been back, and had never been given a reason to suspect that Castiel didn't really live in that house. They'd cleaned up thoroughly before they left, heading to Castiel's real home. Which, after eight years, Dean still sometimes had difficulty finding.

He looped around the block and headed north to the woods just on the outskirts of town, where he parked the car just out of sight in the usual spot. Hitching his bag back over his shoulder, he made his way through the thick trees, treading carefully. Generally speaking, he knew the right direction to walk in. But sometimes, when it got dark or he was distracted, he could sometimes lose his way.

Cas had taken care of that for him. The younger, blue-eyed boy had once told Dean that he was welcome at his home at any point, whether he was there or not. Dean, barely into double digits, had admitted that he couldn't find Castiel's house without him, that he didn't understand how his friend could navigate the woods so well.

So Castiel had set up markers for him. Invisible to most except the people who were really looking for them, or who even knew they were there. Repositioned branches or their initials scratched into the occasional tree, stones with a splash of paint on them. They were different each time, just in case the markers were disturbed for whatever reason. It meant that whenever Dean found himself lost, all he needed to do was find a marker and it would put him back on track.

After a ten minute walk he found himself in the clearing, standing in front of Castiel's house and smiling at the familiar building. After eight years of only Castiel living there it should have fallen into disrepair, but that was never the case. He fixed it up himself, they both did. Painting the door and mowing the grass outside… anything that needed done, they both took care of it.

Now eighteen, Dean had once considered moving in with Castiel and getting away from his father, but it wasn't possible, for a variety of reasons. The main issue being that Castiel was still only sixteen, and if John went looking for Dean and found out that not only did Castiel live on his own in a completely different place to where he was supposed to, there would be trouble and Castiel would be taken into foster care, somewhere Dean would never be able to find him. And that was far from acceptable.

Dean approached the house silently, stepping onto the porch and knocking on the door gently. "Cas, you home?" He called out, knowing the answer was yes. His friend didn't often go out unless they were together, a kid on his own drew attention, and over the years both of them had learned how vital it was not to draw attention.

Part of him felt bad that he was encroaching on Castiel's time and space, knowing his friend had his own finals to study for, although at sophomore year they were fractionally less important that Dean's senior year finals. But he would do his utmost not to disturb Castiel, if only his friend would let him stay.

* * *

Upon arriving home from school, Castiel had done much the same as Dean: buried himself in studying for his final the next day. Unlike Dean, Castiel's test was in French, and he was struggling to remember the difference between masculine and female nouns. His brow furrowed as he read the words on the page for the fiftieth time. "_J'en peux plus! Merde_." He snapped, tugging at his hair and accidentally pulling out a few strands.

As much as he told himself he was distracted because of test nerves, he knew it was because he was worrying about Dean, being at home with John. He'd invited Dean over so they could study together, but his friend had declined with some excuse or other. Castiel hadn't pushed it, but he knew that Dean's refusal came down to the fact that he didn't want to interrupt Castiel's study time. That he didn't want his family circumstances affecting Castiel's own studying.

So it didn't matter how much the blue-eyed boy had told Dean he was welcome at any point, Dean would never come over if he felt it was inconveniencing Castiel. It was ironic, because Castiel felt that he would have gotten more work done if his friend was with him, as opposed to worrying about what John might do to him this time.

He wanted to call Dean, just to make sure everything was okay, but he couldn't. This was Dean's senior year, his finals were far more important than Castiel's worry. He didn't want to interrupt him when he was studying.

Abandoning his French textbook temporarily, Castiel decided that maybe a snack was in order. Maybe the food would give him a renewed focus, restore his concentration since it seemed to have just completely lapsed into thin air. Heading downstairs, he started searching through his kitchen cupboards, hoping he had something to eat. He and Dean had managed to lift a few dozen wallets this week, so they had enough money to do some grocery shopping, but they hadn't done it yet. So whatever food was left in was from their last shop, almost a week ago.

There was some food left, but not much. Enough for dinner later, when Castiel could be bothered to cook something. But for now, he just found a bag of Doritos and a can of Pepsi, and he made his way back upstairs. Sighing, he dropped onto his bed and opened the bag of tortilla chips, munching on them happily. Cool Ranch was definitely his preferred flavour.

Giving his text book a disdainful glance, Castiel reached out and turned on the radio, switching it to a classical station. He thought about Dean's reaction if he was here to comment on the music choice, and almost choked on his chips with how hard he laughed. Not Dean's favourite genre of music, although Castiel quite liked it. Enough to recognize that what was playing was Gustav Holst's Planets. Jupiter, if he wasn't mistaken. Jupiter: The Bringer of Jollity. He preferred Mars, but hopefully this would stimulate his brain into actually focusing on something other than his best friend.

He didn't hold out much hope.

A loud, familiar knock at the door saw Castiel leaping off his bed in fright, spilling the Pepsi down all down his shirt and he swore under his breath. Moving over to the window, he peered out and relaxed once he saw it was Dean. Hearing his friend call out, Castiel smiled and stripped off his shirt, hurrying down the stairs to let him in.

"Don't even say anything." He pre-empted the amused remark when he saw Dean take in his half-dressed state and raise an eyebrow. "This is your fault; you knocked and gave me a fright. And it was the last of the Pepsi, you assbutt."

"Should I make a store run?" Dean offered, stepping inside without invitation, not that he needed one.

Grinning, Castiel shook his head. "Nah, there's still Mountain Dew. And you need to be studying, so unless you want to let me drive the Impala… I'll take that as a no." He added when Dean turned a glare in his direction for even suggesting that Castiel drive his baby anywhere. His smile faded a little and he reached out to touch Dean's shoulder, kicking the door closed. "You're not hurt, are you? I thought you weren't coming over tonight. John didn't…?"

Dean shook his head quickly and Castiel felt his shoulders slump with relief, letting his hand slip away from Dean's shoulder.

"No, nothing like that. But the City Chiefs were playing and things got a little too loud for me to concentrate." Dean explained, kicking off his shoes and heading into the kitchen to get them both a Mountain Dew. "And he was drinking, so I figured it was best all round for me to do a disappearing act. It's cool if I crash here tonight, right? He told me not to come home."

Castiel gave Dean a patient smile and took the can of soda. "You know I'd let you move in here if we could get away with it, Dean. You can stay here any time you want." He assured his friend, leading the way upstairs. Watching with a look of dry amusement as Dean shoved past him and flopped on his bed, Castiel shook his head. "Except when you steal my bed and ... _hey_, get your own Doritos." He snapped, snatching the bag out of Dean's grasp and holding them out of reach.

Dean pouted and gave Castiel his best look of innocence. "But I'm hungry." He complained. "How am I meant to study on an empty stomach? I had to leave before I had a chance to eat at home."

Feeling guilty and knowing he was being played, Castiel groaned and relinquished the chips, muttering something about hoping Dean choked on them. "It's okay for you; you can go home tomorrow and make dinner. I've got nothing in until I get a chance to do some shopping, and I have a final every day for the next three days, so I don't have time." He huffed.

Pausing in his chewing, Dean looked down at the bag and immediately felt guilty himself. Swallowing, he held the bag back out for Castiel to take. "I'm sorry, Cas, I didn't even think… I'll do your shopping, okay? Tomorrow is my last final, so… wait a minute, tomorrow's Friday. You can do your shopping on Saturday, you liar."

Castiel chuckled shamelessly and snatched up the bag of Doritos before Dean could take it back. "Yeah, well, you're just too easy." He hummed, munching on a handful before tossing the snacks back to Dean. "Shouldn't you have your nose buried in some sort of textbook by now?"

"You expect me to study when you have that wailing in the background?" Dean scoffed, shutting off the radio at the wall and pulling out his textbook.

Castiel wanted to point out that for all Dean's good intentions about not disturbing him, it was all he'd done since he'd arrived, but he knew that if he said any such thing then Dean would go to the library for the rest of the evening and nothing Castiel said would dissuade him. So he kept quiet and allowed Dean to overtake his bedroom and commandeer his bed. After all, he reminded himself, Dean's test was more important.

"What are you studying, anyway?" He murmured, moving over to perch on the end of his bed and look over Dean's shoulder. "Wuthering Heights? I love that book." He got back up to move over to his bookshelf, pulling down a battered copy and leafing through it fondly. "Which key themes have you decided to address?"

Dean shifted awkwardly, and Castiel looked up when he didn't reply immediately, sensing his hesitation in replying came from the fact that he had no idea.

"Marriage?" Dean hazarded a guess. "I mean … lots of people get married in Wuthering Heights. Cathy marries Edgar Linton. And Heathcliff marries Isabella Linton. And then there's whatshisface and young Cathy."

"Young Linton. And then Hareton after that." Castiel hummed, still flicking through the pages. "And obviously there's Mr. and Mrs. Chiltern, and Lord Goring and Mabel Chiltern in An Ideal Husband. And Mrs. Cheveley proposes to Lord Goring somewhere I think. I suppose there are a lot of marriages in the books, but you'll need to go a little deeper than that."

Dean sighed and scrubbed at his forehead in agitation. "I know, but I can't work out which themes are gonna be the most powerful, you know? I've read both books, but I'm really struggling."

Castiel moved over to sit next to Dean, taking a pencil and flicking through his copy of Wuthering Heights, making notes in the margin. "Betrayal is a pretty key theme in both. Heathcliff feels betrayed when he overhears Catherine saying it would degrade her to marry him and that she plans to marry Edgar. And Gertrude Chiltern feels betrayed that her husband kept secrets from her that resulted in his being blackmailed." He suggested, then tapped Dean's leg impatiently and gestured for him to write that down.

Gratefully, Dean made notes of everything Castiel was telling him and vowed to remember everything he was saying for the test the next day. "I've got a feeling you'd ace this test if you were taking it, Cas." He chuckled, his pen scribbling furiously. "How'd you know so much about all this stuff anyway?"

"I read." Castiel chuckled. "And English Literature is something I really enjoy. I find all that sort of thing easy enough."

Nodding, Dean wasn't surprised by Castiel's words because he already knew that. "Why _do _you read so much? I've never asked, but you always seem to read when I'm not here, like you don't watch TV or anything unless I'm with you."

Castiel was quiet for a moment as he weighed up Dean's words and then shrugged. "It's quiet when I'm home alone all the time. When my dad first left, I understood, but I didn't really know what to do with myself. So I went and sat in the library and found a book. I think it was Hound of the Baskervilles." He mused thoughtfully, his voice quiet. "I had nobody, and the silence was deafening. I found it easier to be lost in a book than left with my own thoughts. Lost in someone else's world instead of having to deal with mine."

It made Dean's chest ache to think of the time Castiel had been alone. Abandoned so young by his parents, and not having anyone until Dean came along, he must have been silent most of the time, with nobody to even talk to when he wasn't at school. Winding his arm around Castiel's shoulders, he brought him closer and buried his face in his friend's hair, closing his eyes. "You've got me now. I'm not going anywhere, Cas. Not ever." He promised.

A soft look on his face, Castiel nodded and gave Dean a wide, trusting smile. The sort of smile that was reserved just for him. "I know, Dean." He said gently, before clearing his throat and extracting himself from the embrace. "Come on, you have a final in the morning and we're running out of time if you intend to get a good night's sleep."

Sighing, Dean reluctantly nodded and continued to write down all of the themes and examples Castiel suggested until he had a few pages worth of notes to go over, more than enough material to get him through the test. Social standing, betrayal and gender roles were among the themes chosen, and Castiel had made sure that he would have an abundance of examples to back up his point from each book. He'd have a copy of Wuthering Heights with him in the test, but not An Ideal Husband, so he focused on remembering all of the examples from that.

"So how many times have you read that book, anyway?" Dean murmured, looking up from his notes to find Castiel silently lost in the pages of the Emily Bront_ë_ novel. "Because I know you; you almost have a stroke anytime someone so much as bends a page on _any_ book, and you gotta admit, that one you're holding has seen better days."

Castiel smiled and inclined his head. "Quite a few. I stole this one from the library, you remember when we got locked in that time we broke in to wipe off your overdue fines when John ripped that book up?" He laughed. "One of us needed to stay awake so we could sneak out when they opened, and you had that football game the next day, so I let you sleep and found something to read. I hadn't finished it, so I took it with me." He shrugged.

Laughing at the fond memory, Dean recalled their night curled up in the Reference section of Lawrence's Public Library very well. He'd been in middle school, in eighth grade, and they'd been reading some book in class. He'd be damned if he could remember what the name of it was, but it was about digging as a punishment for juvenile offenders. He'd liked the book so much, he went to get it out of the library and John had found it. He'd been furious, citing that reading was for sissies and fags and no son of his was going to bury his nose in a book when he should be concentrating on football, and he ripped it clean in half.

Dean had been too humiliated to go to the library and tell them the truth; that the book had been damaged beyond repair, and so the overdue fines just kept clocking up. Eventually, he and Castiel had decided to break in and clear any record of the fines so that they could go back to the library. Getting in had been the easy part, they'd just allowed themselves to get locked in overnight with the plans of getting out through the window in the back room. They hadn't realised that the door to the back room was locked and wired up to the alarm system, so that if they picked the lock they would set off every alarm in the building.

So they'd been forced to stay in there overnight, and Castiel had taken the initiative to stay awake and keep watch, to make sure they could sneak out as soon as the alarm was deactivated, knowing Dean had a football game the next day.

"So that's when you first read that book?" He queried, looking at it with interest. "Why do you like it so much? I mean, I read it and it's pretty cool, but I don't see what you like about it."

Castiel shrugged. "The love story."

Dean stared at him in disbelief. "What, you mean Catherine and Heathcliff? Seriously? There was no love story there, it was destructive and dark and bitter. It devastated both of them in the end."

"There _is_ a love story." Castiel disputed. "A lot of misunderstandings and bitterness blurs it considerably, but it's obvious when Cathy dies and Heathcliff breaks down."

Dean didn't look convinced and Castiel smiled, thumbing through to the page to find the quote he needed. "'Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!'" His voice was soft as he murmured the words, eventually looking up to meet Dean's eyes. "Destructive or not, I want someone to feel that intensely about me one day."

He lowered his eyes again and Dean found himself speechless by how obviously passionate Castiel was about the subject. The silence that descended on them was warm, lingering, the air crackling with words unsaid. Swallowing, the older boy dropped his eyes to the paper again and began reading.

Time passed slowly, and Castiel returned to his own studying, murmuring the occasional curse word in French. He didn't look up until darkness had fallen over the house and his stomach rumbled violently.

"You hungry?" Castiel spoke up, setting down his textbook and getting to his feet. "Should I make dinner? Dean?" He tilted his head when Dean didn't look up immediately.

"Hmm?" Dean's voice was tired, his eyes starting to glaze over with the amount of reading he'd done. "What did you say?"

Gently, Castiel reached out to take Dean's papers, neatly stacking everything together and moving it to the nightstand. "I asked if you were hungry. I'm gonna make some dinner. Take a break for a while, have something to eat and then get some sleep."

Dean hummed in response and lay back on the bed, resting his head on Castiel's pillow and smiling over at him. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Thanks, Cas, I appreciate this. What's for dinner?"

"Spaghetti and meat sauce. I'll be back soon."

He headed downstairs to start on dinner, making up two plates of pasta, before heading upstairs to see if Dean wanted another drink. "Hey, did you need another soda? Oh."

Castiel smiled, his eyes falling on Dean, asleep on the bed. It didn't look like he'd be waking any time soon, and Castiel wasn't going to be the one to disturb him. Hovering in the doorway for a few more seconds, Castiel watched the peaceful expression on Dean's face. It only ever appeared when he was asleep, years of abuse and responsibility weighing on him, the tension always present in his eyes and jaw when he was awake. Silently, Castiel switched off the light and headed back downstairs to eat his own dinner, scraping Dean's into a Tupperware box so he could have it for his lunch the next day.

With food inside him, sleep didn't seem like a bad idea. Since his bed had been taken over, Castiel made his way to the spare room, the room that used to belong to his parents. He didn't like sleeping in there, but the choice was between that or the couch downstairs, so he opted for the bed. Shedding his jeans and t-shirt, he made up the bed and curled up beneath the covers, closing his eyes. Comforted by the fact that he wasn't alone again that night, Castiel fell asleep.

* * *

When Dean stirred the next morning, it was to the smell of food, which made his empty stomach rumble. He'd only eaten half a bag of Doritos since lunch the previous day, so the smell of bacon cooking downstairs was welcome. Sitting up, he looked around blearily, trying to work out where he was. Blinking, he parted his lips as he realised he was in Castiel's bed, still fully dressed.

Guilt wracked through his as he remembered Castiel going downstairs to make them dinner and realised that he'd fallen asleep. Dean had taken over his bed, and now his best friend was downstairs making him breakfast. Hopping out of bed, Dean moved over to Castiel's closet and found the clothes he kept there for when he stayed over. He changed quickly, brushing his teeth and smoothing his hair down, giving it a quick brush.

Once he was presentable, throwing his leather jacket on over his maroon shirt and white t-shirt, he headed downstairs, leaning in the kitchen doorway and smiling at Castiel. This was how he wanted the rest of his life to be, living with his best friend and having a little domestic life like this. He'd had best friends before, a girl named Jo in elementary school. They'd done everything together, but she'd gone to a different middle school and they'd lost touch. But Castiel was different. They'd been drawn together from the very first day they'd met, and were like two sides of the same coin.

"Morning." Castiel greeted, once he'd caught sight of Dean. "There isn't much. Like I said, I need to do some shopping. But there's bacon and toast." He hummed, flipping some bacon out onto a plate, which he pushed in Dean's direction, buttering the toast.

Dean smiled and moved over to help Castiel, popping more bread into the toaster. "I'd say this is more than enough. I'll give you a hand with the grocery shopping, either tonight or tomorrow."

"Thanks, I appreciate that." Castiel sighed. "Feeling okay about the test this morning?"

Sighing, Dean shrugged. "Hey, it's out of my hands now. I won't know if I've done enough until I sit the test."

Castiel nodded. That was probably true; there was no more time to cram in more studying, so it was just how much Dean remembered now.

When they'd finished eating, Dean quickly did the washing up, waving away all his friend's arguments by citing that Cas had cooked, it was only fair Dean washed up afterwards.

When it came to just before eight, it was time to leave for school. Castiel led the way swiftly through the woods to where Dean had parked his car, which saved Dean a lot of time since he didn't have to look for the markers.

"Good luck, Dean." Castiel murmured when they pulled up in the parking lot, gathering his own things and stepping out.

"You too, Cas." Dean smiled, clapping his friend on the shoulder and making his way to his test. Without Castiel's presence there to calm him, he began to feel worried that he hadn't done enough; that he'd screw things up and fail, and then their plans to get the hell out of Lawrence and go to college would be dashed.

Things didn't improve when he couldn't find his desk, searching around for the seat he'd been allocated proved futile, and he had to wait until everyone else was seated to find a vacant desk. He settled down and set his pens out in front of him, awkward and on edge. He didn't like tests, not that anyone did, but especially Dean. He'd never been academic, that was always Sammy's area. He mainly goofed around, ditched classes and made a nuisance of himself. At least that way, he told himself that he deserved the beatings he got from his dad.

Castiel had changed that. His best friend wanted better for him, had given him the option to have a better life that what he had now. For them to leave, to go to college as far away from Lawrence as possible. All Dean had to do was work for it, pass his exams and get accepted somewhere. So Dean had buckled down, started handing his homework and actually trying his best.

Up until now, he'd succeeded, significantly boosting his GPA and ending up on the honour roll in his junior year. But now he was worried he was going to fail and ruin all of their plans. His nerves started to get the better of him and when they were told to start, he stared at the book dumbly, not having any clue what to write.

The minutes ticked by, and five minutes after the start of the exam, Dean still hadn't done more than write his name on the front of the answer booklet. Setting down his pen, he buried his head in his hands, wondering why everything he'd learned with Cas yesterday had just disappeared out of his head.

Thinking about Castiel made Dean almost groan aloud. He wasn't just letting himself down by failing; he was letting his friend down. Dooming them both to a life in Lawrence, both of them stuck in homes that were technically no home for either of them. He didn't want Castiel to be stuck in the house that reminded him of what he'd once had, and what was gone. Dean didn't want to be responsible for leaving his friend to live in that house, deal with the silence every night, with just his books to occupy him.

"I found it easier to be lost in a book than left with my own thoughts." Castiel had said, Dean remembered how distant the blue-eyed boy had looked when he'd admitted that. It wasn't delivered with his usual passion, like he'd shown when talking about the love Heathcliff felt for Cathy.

With a jolt, Dean realised he could remember at least _some_ of what Castiel had said about the books, and he began to write quickly. His pen scrawled over the paper continuously for the rest of the two hours, only stopping when he leafed through his copy of Wuthering Heights to find a direct quote. Ideas and themes kept coming to him as he wrote, and pretty soon he'd managed to fill up almost four pages.

He was still writing when the teacher called out that there were only a few minutes left, and he hurried to finish his point, setting his pen down with a sigh of relief when time ran out. Rubbing his forehead, Dean turned in his paper and then hurried out to the parking lot for some fresh air as quickly as possible, finding Castiel waiting for him, leaning against the Impala.

"Hey, you'll scratch the paintwork." He pretended to scowl, manhandling Castiel off the hood and wiping it off with his sleeve.

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. How'd it go?"

Honestly, Dean thought it had gone extremely well, but adopted a casual air as he leaned in exactly the same place Castiel had just been, shrugging casually. "I managed to write something." He hummed. "Not sure how much of it was right. I should really start listening to what you say."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the look Castiel shot him, and the corners of his lips tugged up into a smile, giving away exactly how well the test had gone. The same smile was returned and Dean and Castiel exchanged a quick glance before the older boy draped his arm over Castiel's shoulders.

"Lunch?"

"Starving." Castiel agreed.

Smiling, Dean led the way to the school cafeteria, thinking that maybe they could do this, actually get away, and that just maybe they would be alright after all.

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**All reviews are appreciated, please let me know what you think!**


	2. God I Pity The Violins

**Here's the next chapter, sorry it took so long! I was hit with a bad case of writers block, but I made it a little longer to hopefully make up for the wait. This chapter is set approximately two months after Dean meets Castiel, and they've become best friends.**

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**Chapter Two: God I Pity The Violins**

_Castiel is 8, Dean is 10._

Dean walked into the classroom silently when lunch was over, hurrying to put his bag away at the back with a smile on his face. He was going over to Castiel's place tonight, once he'd walked Sammy home. It was exciting, the house his best friend lived in. It was big and old, with lots of rooms, and it was in the middle of the woods. The fact that Castiel could find his way back every day without an adult was amazing, although he didn't really have much of a choice in that respect. Even though Dean feared and hated his own father, he couldn't imagine not having an adult around. They were supposed to deal with all the important things. Plus, if there were no parents, there was nobody to punish him when he did something wrong.

It made him sad, that Castiel didn't have any parents. He'd mentioned an uncle once, on the day they'd met, but Dean knew that he lived across the other side of town, very far away from Castiel and he never bothered with him. It didn't seem right, but Castiel seemed happy so it was okay with Dean. More to the point, Castiel had pleaded with him to keep his situation a secret and it was a secret Dean would take to the grave before betraying.

And it meant that he could go and spend lots of time with Cas in his awesome house. It was like their own secret place and they were safe there. And there was always something to eat, unlike at home when John would fall asleep after he drank that horrible brown stuff and forget to get something for his sons to eat. Dean would always make sure Sam had what he needed, but it often meant that there was nothing for him. So Castiel would make them both dinner, and then Dean would repay him by sharing his lunch when he had it, or buy them a milkshake or some candy whenever his dad had left his wallet open and he'd needed money for Sam's lunch.

Castiel's house was bigger than Dean's. It was the first thing he'd noticed when he'd accidentally stumbled across the cheery house with the red front door and the neat lawn. It was really big, and if Dean hadn't been lost, he'd have been too intimidated to go up to the front door and ask for directions.

Now he got to spend time in it, to sit in Castiel's bedroom and spend hours and hours talking to him. It was the last day of school for the whole weekend and John had told Dean to keep out of the house as much as possible, so he had plans to spend the time with his best friend. But first he had to get through the rest of the school day, so he made his way to his desk and settled down. They never really did anything hard on Fridays, it was always something fun.

"Okay, everyone, we're going to be filling in a worksheet this afternoon, about what your perfect life would be like." Miss Harvelle smiled, looking around the room at all of the students. "It's nothing hard, just put down an answer for each question and then if you don't finish, you can take it home and hand it in on Monday morning, okay?"

That was reasonably easy, so Dean took the work sheet with a polite murmur of thanks and looked over the questions. It seemed simple enough, asking where he wanted to live and what kind of house, what car he wanted to drive and if he wanted to get married. All of the answers to those were obvious to Dean, but it was the question about his ideal job that had him stumped. He filled in the rest of the worksheet, stating that he wanted to live with Castiel in a big house and drive an awesome car, a classic of some kind, and he didn't want to get married because girls were always crying about something or other. He was still confused when he turned in the sheet of paper at the end.

Miss Harvelle looked over the paper and raised her eyebrow, turning her gaze up to meet Dean's. "Dean, honey, I think there's a small problem with your paper. You've filled in most of the answers and that's great. But you haven't put what you want your job to be. What do you want to do for work?"

Dean was even more confused, and nodded slowly, not sure what the problem was. "I don't want a job." He replied honestly. Castiel didn't have one, because he went to school, like Dean. So that was his plan. He would live with Castiel and they could both not-work together. But, of course, he couldn't tell Miss Harvelle that.

"Then how are you going to afford to live in that big house you have planned?" Miss Harvelle asked gently, handing the paper back to Dean. "You have to be realistic about this kind of thing, Dean. Houses cost money, and so does power and food and clothes… you don't have to worry about those kind of things now because your dad takes care of them. But that's because he has a job. That's why you need to have one too. Do you understand?"

Dean didn't understand, but he didn't want to say that, so he nodded and smiled. "Sorry, Miss Harvelle. But I don't know what I want to do."

"Take a look at it over the weekend, sweetie, and see what you come up with. Maybe ask your dad and see what he says."

Yeah, as if that was ever going to happen. John would probably shred the worksheet and then Dean would get wrong when he came back after the weekend and had to tell his teacher that he lost it. Glad when the bell rang, Dean started to pack up quickly, intent on going to meet Castiel from his second grade classroom and then they needed to pick up Sammy from kindergarten.

He was really confused. He'd known about houses costing money and needing to buy food, but Castiel always seemed to have everything he needed. Dean had never even thought to consider asking how he managed, and that made him feel really bad. He'd just assumed Castiel had money since he lived on his own, even though he didn't have any parents to provide him with what he needed. But he'd been living on his own for almost a year now. How did he buy food, or pay any of the bills? How did he have money to go to the movies or on school trips?

Dean was still upset that he'd never even thought about asking when Castiel found him, immediately falling into step beside him. He barely noticed his friend was clutching a sheaf of papers, large and covered in paint, which he slid into his bag carefully.

"Hello, Dean! Did you have fun in class? We had to paint pictures of animals and I painted a cat, and Miss Bradbury said my name was like a cat because I'm called _Catstiel_." Castiel grinned, babbling about his exciting class. The smile slowly slid off his face as he looked at his friend and he frowned. "What's wrong?"

Scuffing his boot against the floor, trying to work out how to bring it up, it took Dean a few moments to answer. "We did something in class today, and it got me thinking. How do you eat, Cas? How do you pay for food and rent and bills? I feel bad that I've never asked if you're okay for money, it's just you always seem to have some…"

Castiel's smile returned to his face and he gave Dean a grateful look. "You don't need to worry about me, Dean, but it's nice to have someone who does." He admitted, his voice soft. "I manage. My parents owned the house outright, so I never had to worry on that front. And I have an uncle, Zachariah, he pays the other bills, like power and stuff. He will until I turn eighteen."

To Dean, that seemed like a long way off, Castiel was only eight now, and he'd been on his own for just over a year. It just seemed amazing to him that the young boy had just accepted his predicament, saw it as necessary.

"So why don't you live with your uncle Zachariah instead of on your own?" Dean asked, hesitantly. He wasn't sure how much was sticking his nose in and how much was acceptable to ask about.

Castiel shrugged. "Don't want to. He's mean and he doesn't want me. He's the only relative I know of that they'd give custody to, and he's definitely the closest. He pays the bills to keep me living there because he knows that if the cops or social workers ever found out about me, I'd be palmed off on him. But that's all he does pay, the bills. Things like food and clothes and school trips, that kind of money I have to raise myself."

"And how do you do that?"

Dean deliberately kept his voice down as they spoke, noticing Castiel doing the same. After all, it just took one person to overhear them and everything would be over, Castiel would be sent to live with his uncle and there would be lots of trouble.

Quiet for a long moment, Castiel turned his eyes to the floor and shuffled his feet awkwardly, before brushing past Dean, heading for kindergarten. "Not here. When we're at my place."

Sam babbled excessively on the walk home about the picture he'd drawn of John and Dean and barely noticed his brother's distraction, never mind Castiel's face all screwed up in concentration as he worked out how much to tell Dean. It wasn't his problem; there was no reason for him to know all of the ins-and-outs of Castiel's business.

Arriving at the front door, Dean searched his pockets for his keys, his frown deepening and panic building as he emptied each and every pocket, looking for the silver keychain with the dull gold keys attached.

"You gave them to me, remember?" Castiel smiled helpfully, drawing the keys out of his pocket and moving over to unlock the door, placing the keys in Dean's hand once he was done.

Dean frowned as the silver keys were placed in his hand, because he had absolutely no recollection of giving them to Castiel. In fact, the only time he'd seen him today was at lunchtime and he'd definitely had the keys after that, because he'd felt them in his pocket when he was packing away just before the final bell. So the only way that Castiel could have gotten them was by picking Dean's pocket.

He paused and met Castiel's eyes, realisation dawning slowly. So this was how Castiel managed to afford everything he needed. He stole it. Pickpocketing. Dean watched Castiel meet his eyes unflinchingly, but there was something in his face that showed he was just waiting to be judged, for Dean to tell him that he didn't want to be friends anymore and that he wasn't coming over.

"Go on, Sam." Dean smiled, eventually turning away from Castiel, pushing the door open and letting his brother run inside so he could start doing his homework. Making sure Sam was settled, and that John was home to keep an eye on him, he closed the door and turned back to his friend. "I'm not judging you, Cas. Everyone needs to eat. But I want to help. Teach me?"

It didn't matter to him what Castiel did in order to survive. In truth, it wasn't like he'd never stolen before. When he'd tried to run away from home when he was younger, he'd made it all the way to Kansas City before his money had run out and he'd stolen fifty dollars from a lady's purse while they waited at the bus stop. The cops had caught up with him when he tried to check into a motel and the owner had realised his situation.

John had been furious, and the beating Dean had been given upon his arrival home was nothing like any he'd ever experienced. He hadn't been able to sit down for three whole days. But he'd never been caught for the theft. The fifty dollars had weighed heavily in his mind and Dean had hidden it inside one of Sammy's books until he worked out what to do with it. Obviously giving it back wasn't an option. He hadn't even learned the woman's name.

In the end, he'd donated it to a homeless person one day when he was walking home from school with Sam. Keeping it just didn't seem fair when he no longer needed it.

"Teach you?" Castiel repeated slowly as they unchained Dean's bike from the gate, Castiel taking the seat as Dean stood and pedalled just in front of him. His house was too far away for them to walk. "No, Dean. This isn't something you need to be involved in." He said quietly, holding onto his friend's waist as they rode. The journey didn't seem to take as long with the silence that had descended on them both, just enjoying the ride, but Dean had no intention of letting it go, and he started up again as soon as they arrived at Castiel's house.

"Why won't you let me help, Cas? Surely it would be helpful for me to know how to do it too? What if you get hurt and can't get any money for food? It would be easier with two of us, because we would have to do it less often."

That was true, and Castiel couldn't actually deny it, as much as he wanted to. With Dean's help, they could make twice as much in the usual time, which meant they wouldn't have to do it as frequently. But the stakes were high; if Dean got caught then John would hurt him, and that wasn't something Castiel would ever be responsible for.

But Dean looked so interested and so determined to help, and it made Castiel's heart ache with happiness that he had someone who wanted to help him for no other reason than because he wanted to.

"Alright." He whispered, ducking his head and feeling weighed down by the guilt. "Alright, I'll teach you. But this isn't just a game, Dean. It's illegal. If you got caught, you'd be in so much trouble."

Dean placed his hand on Castiel's shoulder. "It's okay, Cas. I know the stakes. But I still want to help." He chained his bike to the fence surrounding Castiel's porch and smiled. Almost three years older than his friend, Dean felt a certain duty of care towards him. Not that it was necessary, because it was abundantly clear that Castiel could take care of himself. Sometimes he didn't feel like Castiel was so much younger either, the younger boy having a certain level of maturity that surpassed him when the situation warranted it. Almost like he was doing his best to hang onto his childhood, all the while trying to be an adult.

Nodding, Castiel sighed and let them inside the house, closing the door and finding an old wallet in the room that used to be his dad's study, playing with it idly in his hands.

"Have you worked out when I took the keys from you yet?" Castiel asked softly, because it was as good a place to start as any. Dean needed to understand what it was like to be pickpocketed before he could learn to do it himself with any proficiency. He needed to know how quick and gentle he had to be to avoid getting caught.

Dean thought about that for a long moment. "When you brushed past me." He murmured, realisation dawning slowly. "Your hand touched my jeans and I just assumed it was on the way past. But that's when you took my keys. How did you do that so lightly? I barely noticed!"

Castiel gave a small smile. "You have to understand that the human body will notice even a slight pressure and you have to account for that. You have to accidentally bump someone, or be given a reason to touch them in order to get away unnoticed, else someone will notice their pocket is suddenly empty. So if you really want to learn, then you have to practice on someone who won't knock your teeth out if they catch you. Mainly me. So here's my wallet." He gestured to the one he'd taken from the study and smiled. "It'll be in my back pocket until I go to bed. You have until the end of the night to get it off me without me noticing."

In theory, that sounded like it should be easy, but Dean knew it was a lot harder than it looked. Castiel would be expecting it, so it would be even harder to catch him unawares. Nodding that he understood, he sighed, following Castiel towards the stairs. The wallet was there, just speaking to him, and an idea struck him. "Race you to the top?" He laughed, starting to run for the stairs.

Chuckling, Castiel ran past him and Dean seized the back of his waistband to pull him back, surreptitiously sliding the wallet out of his pocket at the same time, pocketing it as he ran past Castiel, straight to the top of the stairs. At the top he waited for Castiel to chastise him over the blatant way he'd grabbed the wallet and demand it back, but he didn't, he just starting heading for his room.

"Uh, Cas?" Dean frowned and pulled out the wallet. "How am I meant to learn to take it if you don't ask for it back?"

Castiel stared at the small black wallet in Dean's hands and instinctively checked his back pocket. "I didn't even know you'd taken it. Was that when you grabbed my belt?"

Excitement slowly flooded through Dean's body. Castiel never lied to him; they didn't make a habit of lying to each other. So he really hadn't noticed Dean taking his wallet. Nodding eagerly, he let out a soft laugh. "Does this mean I can start helping you then?"

"No." Castiel replied, and Dean's face fell. "It means you know the basics. But there's more to it than being able to steal a wallet. Because I don't always pickpocket, it's sometimes easier to cut out the middle man and steal directly from stores. But it means that I can teach you the rest of what I know. Come on, we'll go out and grab dinner somewhere, then I'll show you what I'm talking about."

Dinner consisted of a sub sandwich, Dean's with steak and cheese and Castiel with turkey and ham. Filling, cheap and convenient, considering they were walking around the town centre, trying to work out which was the best place to help Dean learn all of the tricks he needed to know to steal successfully.

"That one." Castiel decided eventually, pointing to a grocery store that was quite near the end of the street. It was close enough to a couple of alleys for them to make a getaway if something went wrong, and it didn't have particular strong or particularly lax security either. Just somewhere in the middle, which made it ideal for practice.

Dean couldn't see anything special about it, which he supposed was the point. Either way, he trusted Castiel's judgement.

"Okay, so what do you want me to do? Just walk in and take something?" Dean asked, trying not to feel nervous. He knew that looking nervous would make him look suspicious.

Castiel shook his head. "No. I want you to walk in and do everything you would do if you were _going_ to take something, and then I'll correct your inevitable mistakes, and we'll practice when you have the hang of it. You need to think of every little detail, no matter how small. It's the difference between getting away with it and being caught. Now, what's the first rule?"

It seemed like Castiel was taking this pretty seriously, and Dean could understand why. If he was caught, he'd be taken into care, slapped with a juvenile theft charge on his record and that was that. His life of living alone would be over. And if Dean was caught, much would be the same, aside from the whooping he'd get from John.

"Blend in." Dean replied after a long moment, and smiled when the look on Castiel's face implied he'd gotten the answer right.

"Exactly. So how do you blend in when you're shoplifting?"

Dean took a little longer to think about that, planning every meticulous detail in order to impress Castiel, make it seem like he knew what he was talking about. "I'd take a shopping list, then I could look at it when I was walking around and nobody would think anything of it."

"Wrong." Castiel shook his head. "No list. A list implies you'll have more than you can remember, which means you'll be expected to have some sort of cart or basket. Someone with a list but no cart doesn't blend it. Something like that is noticeable. And you can't take the cart because it's too much of a liability, filling one up and then abandoning it leaves fingerprints and looks suspicious. You need to get in and get out as quickly as possible without attracting attention."

Dean pouted a little. "And how do I do that?"

Smiling, Castiel shrugged. "Just become one of a thousand faces. Come on." He ditched the last mouthful of his sandwich and led the way into the store, pushing open the door and looking around, Dean following right behind him. They fell into step beside each other and Castiel watched Dean pointedly not start a conversation. They moved silently until he stopped an employee and gave a charming smile, asking where the milk was.

Sighing in mild exasperation, Castiel followed the directions and actually bought milk when they got to it, handing over a ten dollar bill and pocketing his change with a murmur of thanks.

"Why did you buy the milk? I was only asking to blend in." Dean asked in confusion once they were outside, looking down at the bag Castiel was holding.

"Blending in doesn't just mean fitting into the surroundings." Castiel explained patiently, although he was a little annoyed he was out a couple of dollars just to have to allay suspicion. It was a store he used occasionally, and Dean had almost drawn attention to them, something Castiel had been avoiding for a while now. "The point is to be completely invisible. People need to see you, like the sight of you, and then forget you as soon as you leave their sight. Things like asking for a specific item will stick in the head of employees, because they'll see you and associate you with asking for milk. And when you walked out of the store without any milk, they'll wonder why not when there's lots of it. It's memorable, and the most important thing is not to be remembered. Do you see?"

Dean looked abashed, understanding what Castiel was trying to explain and felt thoroughly chastised. He nodded, thinking he knew what to do now. "So I walk in, don't look particularly happy or sad, look around a little, take what I need without speaking to anyone and then leave." He clarified.

Smiling, Castiel inclined his head. "Exactly. And the final thing, if you're with me and we're not talking, that looks a little weird. Try having a conversation." Checking the time, Castiel hummed. "I think that's enough for one day. Come on; let's go back to my place. We can pick this up again tomorrow."

The evening consisted of a movie with popcorn. Or that had been the intention, Castiel had assured Dean he had a bag of popcorn in the kitchen and returned clutching a bag of marshmallows. Dean blinked a few times and then laughed.

Castiel had pouted until Dean had explained through barks of laughter and then he pouted a little more, throwing one and hitting Dean between the eyes huffily. But they ate the marshmallows anyway, watching George Clooney and Brad Pitt attempt to steal from three Las Vegas casinos. It was nothing if not amusing, and Dean warned Castiel not to get any ideas, resulting in another marshmallow being thrown at him.

It was a fun evening, and it was one of the times Dean was grateful that Castiel could have at least some semblance of a childhood in amongst his chaotic life.

* * *

The next day came quickly, with Dean awaking excitedly in the guest room and feeling too impatient to wait for Castiel to wake up naturally. So he headed downstairs, making some toast and setting it down on Castiel's nightstand, shaking his shoulder until he stirred.

"Hmm? Dean, for crying out loud, it's Saturday." Castiel groaned, checking his clock. "Surely I'm allowed to sleep in past nine? The stores will still be there when I get up!"

But he sat up anyway, smiling and thanking Dean for the toast and nibbling on a slice. It was made just how he liked it, light and buttery. Murmuring his thanks, Castiel ate happily, making room for Dean to sit on the bed.

Dean took the offered seat, perched on the end of the mattress and looking at Castiel impatiently, as if he wanted the younger boy to inhale the food and hop out of bed fully dressed. Castiel had made such a difference to his life, in the time they'd known each other, he'd given him more than Dean could ever repay. Thanks to Castiel, he now had somewhere he could hide out if John was in one of his lashing out moods. Which was at least ninety per cent of the time, if he was honest. But it meant that Dean was in a hurry to start repaying him as best as he could.

Castiel seemed to be taking forever to eat his toast, and Dean was sure he was doing it on purpose, but was forced to wait for him anyway. As soon as he'd eaten the last mouthful, Dean snatched up the plate and left Castiel to dress. Eventually they were ready to go, and Dean led the way to their bikes.

The ride into town was short, and as soon as they'd locked their bikes just away from the main streets in case they needed to escape, they sauntered into the same area as the previous day. Immediately, Dean made his way towards the store they'd bought the milk from, and Castiel stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"We covered rule number one yesterday: blend in. Rule number two is equally as important. Never take from the same place too often." He explained. "People will notice if you go into a store regularly, especially if you don't buy anything."

There was sense in that, Dean supposed, and he paused to lean against a wall, thinking about it. He didn't want to have to get Castiel to correct him again, so he spent a few moments mulling over what Castiel had told him. "So you should have a few different stores to steal from." He said eventually. "And when you're not stealing from one, you should go in and do some shopping just because. Buy small things, like bread or candy so you're not there long enough to be recognized. And swap around so you never become a regular."

He knew immediately from the look on Castiel's face that he'd gotten it right again and that made him pleased. His heart leapt at the look of pride and affection that his best friend sent his way.

"Exactly." Castiel agreed, leaning next to Dean and pressing their shoulder's together. "So hypothetically speaking, you're in this street, right now, and need to steal some bread, and you spot a brand new cell phone you want. What do you do?"

It seemed like there was going to be some sort of trick to the question, but Dean would be damned if he could work out what it was.

"You said _need_ to steal the bread, and _want_ the cell phone, so I suppose I'd take the bread." He said slowly, thinking it through. "Is there no way of taking both? If I had a shopping bag that would fit bread in it, then I guess I'd have room for the phone too."

Castiel shook his head. "You had it right the first time. My point is, never take what you don't need. I might need bread to eat, but if I ever want a cell phone, I'll use the money I steal to buy it. I don't steal expensive items, because if I get caught, that's a definite conviction. Store owners might be inclined to let a kid go who was stealing some bread because he lost his uncle's shopping money and didn't want a beating." He explained, quietly. "But that's not my point. Do you understand why you should never take what you don't need?"

"Because you can't carry it?" Dean suggested weakly, not sure what Castiel was driving at.

Smiling, Castiel shook his head. "That does come into it, of course. But what do you suppose will happen if you steal one candy bar and someone does inventory? Nothing. What happens if you steal dozens of candy bars and someone does inventory? They take preventative measures to avoid future losses, which makes it harder to steal. Taking excessive items draws too much attention, can slow down hasty exits if your pockets are weighed down with contraband, and more often than not there's nowhere to put it anyway."

Dean wasn't even sure he could _spell_ half those words, let alone use them in a sentence. But Castiel was unbelievably clever, and he read a lot, so he knew more words than Dean did. Not that their test scores showed that. Both of them put in the bare minimum of effort necessary in order to pass with an average mark. Too many fails and their parents would be called. Neither of them wanted that. Being too bright, scores that were too good would draw too much attention for Castiel, and Dean just simply didn't care. He had no college plans to speak of, was under no illusion that he'd end up working in some dead-end job, trying to put Sammy through college. But Cas? He had potential. All he needed to do was stay under the radar until he got to high school and then work hard to get into a decent college. Then he'd never have to steal again.

For Dean? Well, it would probably come in handy during the rough spots, so long as he didn't get caught.

"Does that make sense?" Castiel asked hesitantly when Dean didn't reply immediately.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Dean turned to look at Castiel and smiled. "I got it, don't worry. Only take what I need. So do you just take wallets and things to pay your bills? What if you don't get enough?"

Castiel smiled dryly. "I always get enough. I follow people who come out of the bank or away from an ATM. If I don't get enough from the wallets I take, I steal candy and sell it to people at school, or I'll steal electronics and sell them online. Everything goes into my dad's bank account, which I have a card for. He left it open because there was still some money in it. Quite a lot, a little less than five figures. But I'm keeping that for emergencies. Like if I hurt myself and I can't make any money. I still need to eat."

Dean nodded, understanding. Once that money was gone, Castiel would have nothing to fall back on. "So is stealing the only way you get money?"

"I do other things too. Sometimes I mow lawns and wash windows and tell people around I'm raising money for my dad's birthday or for Christmas." Castiel shrugged. "And other times I con the money out of people instead of taking it. I'll show you that part tomorrow. We need to go to Topeka for that."

Dean blanched. "Cas, I'm not even allowed out of Lawrence, there's no way my Dad will let me go to Topeka. How would we even get there? Biking would take us hours!"

"Greyhound." Castiel shrugged. "And don't worry about the ticket, I can take care of that. I've done this a few times. It only takes thirty minutes that way. And why do you have to ask him? We'll be fine, Dean. I promise."

Reluctantly, Dean nodded. "Alright. So what are the lessons for today, then?" He asked, starting to feel excited at what they were going to do. "Do I get to take something today?"

"Yes." Castiel agreed, hesitantly. "But not yet. There's one more lesson I have to show you before you're ready." He started walking across the street, gesturing for Dean to wait.

He did, frowning when Castiel walked into a joke store. What on earth did they need from there? Castiel couldn't eat it, or sell it. It was nowhere near Halloween, so if he stole some sort of costume wear, there would be no use for it.

His best friend returned after a few moments, clutching a small paper bag, which he flashed at Dean with a grin.

"What's in there?" Dean asked, frowning when Castiel pulled out an electric hand-held buzzer, pressing it to Dean's cheek and laughing as he jumped and flinched away. "The hell do you need one of those for?"

"I don't." Castiel shrugged. "But it was only three dollars and I needed to buy something while I swiped this." He pulled a short blond wig out of his pocket and laughed at Dean's face. "I couldn't buy it, considering I need be caught stealing wearing it at the other side of town." He grinned. "If the police ask about someone buying a blond wig, it won't trace back to me."

Dean tried his best to follow Castiel's reasoning, but almost tripped over the part where Castiel said he was planning to get caught.

"You're _what_?"

Castiel shrugged. "You'll see. Come on."

They took their bikes from the back street and rode them through the streets to a small grocery store at the far end of town. Castiel never used this store, because it was expensive and the security guard seemed to hate kids, watching them like a hawk whenever they entered the store without an adult. But it was perfect for the point he wanted to make.

Just around the corner, Castiel stopped. "You need to go in before me and start shopping. Find some way to watch me without being obvious that you know me. You can't be seen with me or they're going to catch you, understand? You need to watch what I do. The old security guard, his name is Ralph or something similar. He hates kids and he's going to follow us both around. I'm going to let him catch me and show you how to escape when you're being chased, okay?"

Dean nodded uneasily, not really liking the sound of what Castiel had planned. What if he actually did get caught? It was risky.

Using a nearby shop window as a reflection to adjust the wig, Castiel grinned. "How do I look?"

"Different." Dean replied truthfully. "It doesn't match your eyebrows, but let's hope the dude doesn't look too closely, or that it stays where it's supposed to. So what do I do when you've got away?"

Castiel smiled and handed over a few dollar bills. "Here. Buy a couple of candy bars or something, I feel like some Hershey's. When I leave, you buy the candy, then you go for your bike and head back to stores we were at just a few minutes ago. Wait for me there, I'll be taking the long route back. I won't be more than thirty minutes, and if I am, assume I've been caught and head home."

Dean nodded, even more uneasy, but Castiel looked confident. He seemed to know what he was doing. Looking down at the money in his hand, he shuffled awkwardly.

"You've already spent six dollars today just teaching me." He mumbled. "I'm sorry, I'll pay you back."

Rolling his eyes, Castiel pushed Dean lightly and gave him a warm look. "I'll make way more than that tomorrow, trust me. Go on, now. And don't forget to be discreet."

With a last look at Castiel, Dean rounded the corner with his bike and chained it up just outside the store. Castiel kept his loose because he needed to make a quick getaway, but he kept it away from Dean's, just in the alleyway.

Feeling anxious for his friend, Dean stepped inside the store, acting casually. Castiel had been right about the security guard; the old bald guy gave Dean a look of disdain as soon as he crossed the threshold, and proceeded to follow him around without making the slightest attempt to appear subtle. Stopping by the candy, he glanced up at the doorway as Castiel entered, whistling.

The security guard scowled and gave Dean a nasty look as he went to investigate what Castiel was doing. Holding his breath, Dean watched Castiel move to the next aisle away from the security guard, and shove something in his pocket.

"Hey! Thief!" The guard yelled, and Castiel's eyes widened. He bolted for the door, but the guard gestured to the cashier to hit a button that caused the automatic doors to jam in their current position. Which, at the present moment, was closed.

"Shit." Dean breathed, knowing that Castiel was now guaranteed to be caught, since there was no way out. But his friend didn't seem deterred. On the contrary, he seemed to have been expecting the move and he turned around and sprinted for the back door which led into the stock room, bursting through and disappearing. Dean had no idea what was back there, or if there was another way out for Castiel, but he kept up the act and picked up two Hershey's bars, heading for the till.

The cashier barely gave him a second glance, and Dean briefly noted that he could have ransacked the shelves during Castiel's distraction, but opted not to. He still hadn't learned whatever lesson he was meant to be getting from this after all.

"Uh, the doors are stuck?" Dean asked awkwardly, and the cashier sighed and pressed the button to release the doors. Muttering his thanks, Dean left the store, unchaining his bike and heading back to the meeting point. He felt sick, his hands trembling as he rode. What if Castiel was caught because of this? It would be all his fault. Castiel didn't _want_ to live with his Uncle Zachariah, the guy was mean and hated Castiel by all accounts.

The only other option was foster care, and who would want to give up their home, school, friends when they could live alone and get by?

Dean's whole body was stiff, tension keeping his joints locked in place as he impatiently checked his watch, waiting for Castiel to get there. At the sign of the familiar black hair coming towards him on a bike only fifteen minutes later, Dean slumped against the wall.

"You almost gave me a heart attack." He accused, pursing his lips at the smug look on Castiel's face, once his friend had chained his bike up. "Some warning would have been good. So what lesson was I meant to be learning from that?"

Unwrapping the candy bar he'd just plucked from Dean's pocket, Castiel gave a knowing smile. "Escape is priority. Even if you're caught, it's not over if you can get away. The lesson was to always have a contingency plan. To know the layout of the place you're stealing from. Like I happened to notice an open window big enough for me to slip through leading from the stockroom. So when they blocked the front doors, I left through the back." He shrugged.

Dean, eyeing the candy bar suspiciously, groaned and scrubbed his hand through his hair. "And you couldn't have just told me that instead of letting me die before I become a teenager?"

Castiel grinned. "Well, let's be honest, you're more likely to remember it this way, aren't you?" He pointed out. "So if you're all worked up and scared, do you just want to head home now instead of trying it yourself?"

"I didn't say that." Dean said quickly, sighing when he saw Castiel's smirk and realising he'd just been played. "Yeah, yeah, you dick. Come on; just tell me what to do."

Shaking his head, Castiel leaned against the wall, folding his arms. "Nope." He smiled at Dean. "You're on your own. Go ahead."

Dean was blindsided by Castiel's willingness to let him go and take something after all of the lessons he'd had hammered into him. He suddenly felt awkward, not sure if he was ready. Biting his lip, he looked at his best friend. "Aren't you coming?"

"That's upto you." Castiel replied immediately. "This is all yours. Everything from whether you walk in with a friend or you want me to watch you, up to when we leave. I'll step in if I think you're doing something wrong, but otherwise, this is your gig." He smiled and wrapped his arm around Dean, squeezing lightly as he sensed his nervousness. "I wouldn't throw you in at the deep end, Dean. I genuinely think you're ready."

That was reassuring. Dean felt a little better that Castiel had confidence in him, but that did nothing to abate his nerves. He knew it would always be like that until he got it over with though. And there was nothing making him do it, he reminded himself. Castiel had said that he could take care of himself. He had insisted, and he knew that this was his own choice.

There was still the option to walk away from this, to tell Castiel he'd changed his mind, but that was an option Dean dismissed immediately. He wasn't going to do that to the blue-eyed boy, his best friend who'd taken the time to make sure he was ready, who'd spent money on teaching him how to steal. Admittedly, not a lot of money, but money that he couldn't afford to waste nonetheless. No, Dean was going to make sure that he helped Castiel as much as he could, because his friend deserved it.

"Maybe you could come in and keep an eye on me, like I did before when you got caught. And then if I do something wrong, you can pretend to notice me and fix it." Dean suggested, tentatively.

Castiel nodded with an approving smile. It sounded like a good plan. "Okay. Try and get some candy bars. They're small enough to disappear easily and I need some to give out on Monday anyway. I promised everyone in class candy bars in exchange for giving me Friday's paintings, and I never back out of my promises."

Dean frowned; remembering the sheaf of papers Castiel had been carrying when school had let out on Friday and wondering exactly what he wanted all of the class' paintings for anyway. He did that sometimes, every month or so he'd come out with everyone's paintings that they'd done in class, having swapped them with a promise of a candy bar or a dollar, and he always paid up. Dean had no idea what the point was, but he didn't ask, assuming he'd find out sooner or later. He nodded and allowed Castiel to head into the store first, following himself after a few moments.

Walking in, he remembered that he needed an alternative escape route for if he was caught. There were two exits, the store being large enough that he could escape through the other door if his light-fingered efforts were spotted. Considering that it was the first thing he thought of, maybe Castiel had a point about Dean being sure to remember the lesson with the frightening way he'd hammered it home.

The candy was easy enough to find, and the aisle was quite busy, which was a bonus, It would make it harder to be spotted, so long as he was discreet. He palmed three or four candy bars easily, sliding them up his sleeve and heading towards the exit.

"Dean? Hey, I didn't even recognise you!"

Castiel's voice stopped him in his tracks and he inwardly winced, wondering exactly what it was he'd done wrong. Turning around, he plastered a smile in place and approached his friend, playing along.

"Hey, Cas." He smiled, following Castiel as he made his way to the next aisle over. "What are you doing here?"

"Just looking for some shaving cream for my dad, but I can't remember which one he uses." Castiel sighed, looking at the aerosol cans and shaking his head. "I'll have to come back another day. What are you here for?"

Dean shrugged, trying to work out what he'd done, but he couldn't think of anything. But it seemed like Castiel was delaying him from leaving the store, so he wondered if he'd been spotted. "Was going to buy Sammy some candy, but he's being pretty fussy at the minute with which kinds of chocolate he likes, so I'll just leave it."

Nodding, Castiel smiled. "Hey, if you're not busy, you could come over to my place and hang out. My dad won't mind if we're quiet."

Accepting the invitation, Dean headed out of the store and they made for their bikes without any trouble. Knowing better than to show Castiel what he'd gotten while they were still in view of the store, Dean waited until they were a couple of streets away, before slowing his bike to a halt and looking at Castiel.

"Okay, what did I do wrong?" He sighed.

Castiel smiled, encouragingly. "Nothing that was too bad. You just went to leave as soon as you'd made the grab. Move around a little first, looks less suspicious. Just figured it was better to be safe than sorry. So what did you grab?"

Realising that he hadn't actually made a mistake made Dean return Castiel's smile with a lopsided grin of his own and he pulled the candy bars out of his sleeve and waved them at his best friend enticingly. "Four candy bars."

"Not bad." Castiel agreed, gesturing for Dean to put them into his bag. "Now it's my turn."

They alternated between stealing and distracting, Castiel going for the younger boy who'd gotten lost and was asking for directions while Dean filled his pockets with a couple of candy bars. When they switched, Dean 'accidentally' knocked a stand filled with magazines over and helped the store owner pick them all up and reorganize them, apologising profusely while Castiel took advantage of the distraction.

Together, they worked their way around all of the stores in town and Castiel even took a few wallets, emptying the cash and dropping the wallets on top of a trash can or leaving it on a bench. The cards were useless and could be traced, and more often than not someone would come back looking for it. Pictures had sentimental value. Castiel just needed the cash.

He struck lucky when he found a wallet that held three crisp hundred dollar bills and he stared for a moment. That was enough for him to get a month's worth of grocery shopping. He always made sure he had enough to eat, but when it was just him to feed and occasionally Dean when he came over for dinner, it didn't cost him very much. Once that was bought, he should still have enough to buy a winter coat since it was getting close to snow and he'd outgrown last year's. Add to that what he would make from tomorrow's plan, and he should be okay for money for at least a couple of weeks, even once he'd added some money to his savings, which he kept in a shoebox under the floorboards. He had close to seventeen hundred dollars. It was his non-emergency fund, for school trips and such. Whatever came up.

Eventually, it got late enough that the stores would be suspicious about kids their age still being out, so they called it a day, heading back to Castiel's place to check over what they'd managed to get. Altogether, they'd scored for four hundred and twenty three dollars and thirty seven candy bars. He was more than set.

Dean stuck around just long enough to check over how much they'd managed to get, and he backed off quickly when Castiel offered to split some of the money with him.

"No, don't be silly, Cas. You need it more than I do. You need to buy food with that money, and probably other things too. Seriously, I don't need it. I just wanted to help. But I gotta head home now. What time do you want me tomorrow?"

Castiel thought about that. The Greyhound would only take thirty minutes or so to get to Topeka, and they were quite frequent, three a day in each direction. "Around ten thirty or so? There's a bus due at eleven fifteen over on West 6th Street, we can get that one."

With that arranged, Dean headed off home, wondering exactly what con Castiel was going to show him that involved him leaving Lawrence. If it had been anything like earlier, the feeling of exhilaration he felt when he'd walked out of the stores without paying for the candy, then it was guaranteed to be a very fun day.

* * *

Twenty five minutes after ten saw Castiel dressed and waiting patiently for Dean, having made up some lunch for them and packed it into a small bag, along with a couple of books. That would be Dean's job to keep hold of. For all that he promised to show Dean the perks of conning money as opposed to stealing it; it was going to be quite a boring day. He took the paintings he'd bought from the rest of the class and scanned through them, satisfied. Some of them were quite good, and would be perfect for what he needed.

He slid them into a plastic folder, ensuring not to crease or crumple them in any way. He needed them in the best condition he could manage, and he smiled. He'd done this before, but it looked more realistic to have Dean with him, or at least less strange. Castiel had a role to play today.

His friend knocked on the door just a moment before ten thirty and Castiel rushed to answer it with a warm smile in place. Having a best friend, having anyone at all took some getting used to.

"You found my house okay today then?" He beamed.

Dean shook his head. "I left my place over an hour ago." He admitted sheepishly. "I knew I wouldn't be able to find it and I didn't want to risk missing the bus. I had to climb a tree like six times to make sure I was going the right way. It's amazing how you can find your way through these woods, Cas, I don't understand how you manage it."

Castiel shrugged, huffing out a laugh. "Just practice. My mom and dad used to take me back and forwards through the woods to teach me for when I went to school. I was camping out here when I was three or four years old, me and my dad used to get our tent and…" He stopped and pulled a face. Talking about his parents was a sore subject at the best of times. It made his chest feel hollow. "Yeah, I just got used to it. You'll learn the way eventually."

Nodding, understanding the change of subject and knowing not to press it, Dean took one of the bags from Castiel, eyeing the plastic folder with the paintings in with curiosity. So they were part of the con; that would explain why Castiel bought them. Not that it had cost him any money, since he paid his classmates with candy that he'd stolen.

Noticing Dean's curious look, Castiel shook his head, laughing again. "You'll see when we get there. Come on, we've got to get to the bus stop. I'll make sure we don't get lost."

Castiel kept the plastic folder, making sure he had his wallet as he locked the front door behind them, tossing an apple he'd palmed before leaving to Dean.

"Here. No doubt you missed breakfast, and we won't be able to have lunch until quite late." He explained, having already eaten his own breakfast, consisting of mashed up bananas on toast.

Dean smiled, catching the apple deftly and taking a bite. "I'm not sure I've got enough money for lunch anyway. Dad was…" He trailed off.

Castiel jolted and moved to have a proper look at Dean's face, and sure enough, his friend was sporting a large bruise on his cheekbone. Gritting his teeth, he took a few seconds to remind himself that punching John Winchester in the face was guaranteed to draw attention. "Is there anything else?" He asked quietly. Most of the time, the worst of Dean's damage seemed to be underneath his clothes, where it was easier to hide.

Dean shook his head. "Nothing else. He was just drunk. Sam's out for the day, thank God. Bobby's got him."

Relieved, Castiel exhaled slowly and nodded. He knew Dean didn't like to talk about it, and it was only because of the way they'd met that he'd found out about Dean's situation in the first place. So long as there was no severe damage, he would let it go.

"I took care of lunch anyway. It's in the bag you're carrying." He added, giving Dean a small smile.

Leading the way out of the clearing and into the woods, Castiel took a left, treading a different route than the way Dean knew, laughing at the look on Dean's face. He knew every inch of these woods, knew how to get to each part of town by cutting through them. The quickest way to West Sixth Street was to head to the left until he reached the tree that had been struck by lightning long before Castiel was born, and then follow the path.

Sure enough, they reached the stop at five minutes past eleven, spending the time until the Greyhound pulled up just talking about their plans for the winter break, which were just over a month and a half away. Dean excitedly told Castiel that his Dad was usually okay for a couple of days around Christmas, that he gave money to him and Sam to do things, let them go out and build snowmen and have snowball fights and didn't drink, except for eggnog on Christmas day, which Dean was allowed to drink too. Not Sammy though, he was too young.

Castiel was glad things would be a little easier for Dean over the holiday period. He seriously deserved a break from John's usual attitude. And a few days was better than none.

The sight of the Greyhound rounding the corner was welcoming, and Castiel noticed Dean's hand drift to the pocket he usually kept his money in. Smiling to himself, he grabbed Dean's wrist and tugged him forward when the bus came to a stop.

"Hey Gabriel." Castiel greeted with a smile when he got onto the bus. "This is Dean, I'm buying his ticket. How much do I owe you?"

Gabriel grinned at them both. "Hi Castiel! Nice to meet ya, Dean-o." He waved them onto the bus and closed the doors. "Now really, when do I ever charge you for a ticket?"

Castiel played along, pretending to think about that. "Never?"

"Bingo!" Gabriel grinned. "Take a seat, boys. Sit back and enjoy the ride. Next stop, Topeka!"

Castiel chuckled and pulled Dean to a seat as Gabriel started the short journey to Topeka. The chuckle quickly turned into a laugh as Dean stared at Gabriel with a slightly confused, suspicious expression.

"He's a distant relative." Castiel whispered quietly. "Like a third cousin twice removed or something. He's at college, does this part-time. If I could live with Gabriel, I'd maybe tell the cops I was living alone, but he doesn't even know that my dad left and there's no way he'd get custody over Zachariah. And he lives in Topeka anyway, that's why he does this route. We've met a couple of times; he gives me free rides on weekends. I couldn't live with him though. He's awesome and it would be great, but he's a student. Even if he wanted me, I couldn't put that kind of responsibility on him. He needs to concentrate on his studies."

Dean nodded and looked a little sad as he took all of that in. "I think he'd want you, Cas. If he ever found out, I've got no doubt that he would want you. I do. If I had my own place or my dad was… well, not like my dad, then I'd want you to live with me."

Castiel didn't respond immediately, just silently stared out of the window as he composed himself. Feeling as wanted as he did when Dean was around wasn't something he was used to, and he was ashamed of the tears that stung his eyes. Blinking them back, Castiel turned and smiled at Dean.

"Thank you." He said simply, and that was the end of the conversation.

The ride into Topeka passed quickly, and when they pulled up at the bus station, Castiel moved over to Gabriel.

"Thank you, Gabriel. What time are you doing the run back?" He asked, hesitating at the doors. He didn't want to miss the return bus, they had school the next day so the bus after that would be too late and having to a buy a train ticket would be a complete waste of money.

Gabriel checked his schedule. "Six thirty three exactly." He beamed. "I'll hang around for a few minutes in case you're running late. Take care, Castiel!"

Tugging Dean's sleeve, Castiel gestured for them to get off the bus and they hopped down into the busy streets. Castiel knew his way around, but Dean didn't, and the older boy spent a few minutes looking around in awe. He'd only ever been outside of Lawrence once and that had been when he'd run away from home and gone to Kansas City.

"We gotta go, Dean." Castiel murmured after a few moments of letting Dean stare. "I want to catch the lunch time rush. Come on."

He led the way through the streets, weaving in and out of the crowd and taking a wallet whenever it got too busy for him to be caught, ditching the actual wallet and keeping the cash whenever he rounded a corner. Dean watched him, knowing what he was doing, but never actually able to see the lift because Castiel was too quick. He would accidentally bump into someone, murmur an apology while his hand braced against their chest and then make the lift as he pulled away.

Dean shook his head subtly, wondering if he would ever be able to be as good as Castiel was. He would do anything necessary to help his best friend.

The train station was just starting to get busy when they arrived and Dean was really confused as to what they were doing here, but trusted Castiel knew what he was doing.

"I need you to sit on that bench right there with this bag. Do your own thing, there's a couple of books in the bag if you get bored, but keep an eye on me. Whenever anyone approaches me, make sure you lean forward a little so you can see what's happening. If anyone asks, you're my cousin, okay?"

Dean nodded, slowly. He could do that. "Whatever you need, Cas, but what are you going to be doing?" He asked.

Grinning, Castiel looked at Dean mischievously. "Wait and see."

He walked over to the stretch of wall just opposite the bench. It was the perfect spot, because you had to pass that particular area to get in and out of the station. Which meant that hundreds of people would pass him before the end of the day.

Settling down and making himself comfortable, Castiel started to unpack the plastic folder, taking out two of the best paintings and sticking them to the wall behind him with poster putty, holding them in place. The other paintings he kept in the wallet, already organised in the order he needed them in. A small cap came out of the wallet and finally a cardboard sign that read 'Paintings for Sail'.

Dean blinked, wondering how Castiel expected anyone to buy something that clearly held no value, and wondered why the sign was misspelled, when he knew for a fact that Castiel was well-read, even at his age he knew how to spell better than Dean himself.

Castiel shrank in on himself, making himself look as young as possible, calling out quietly as people passed. His tone balanced the right amount of respect with innocence and charming, which automatically drew attention.

"Do you want to buy a painting, miss?" He asked hopefully as a young woman stopped to look at him. "I'm saving up to get my daddy a Christmas present, and since my mommy died he doesn't really have much money. So I want to get him something real special. I painted lots of pictures to sell so I could raise the money on my own, and I mow the lawn for my next door neighbour too!"

His childlike tone almost made Dean's jaw drop, but he remembered what he was supposed to be doing and leaned forward so he could keep an eye on Castiel.

"Aren't you a little young to be out here on your own, honey? Where's your dad now?" The woman asked, but her tone was soft, just as her expression had become when Castiel mentioned his mom had died.

Castiel beamed. "He's at work. I got my cousin to bring me; he's sitting on the bench over there." He pointed to Dean.

Recognising his cue, Dean waved when the woman turned around, leaning forward a little more and doing his best to make sure he looked as old as possible, which wasn't hard given how young and innocent Castiel was looking.

Satisfied, the woman took out her purse and knelt down, placing a ten dollar bill into the cap at Castiel's feet. "There you go. I hope you get something really lovely for your dad."

"You forgot your picture." Castiel spoke up as she tried to walk away. "My daddy taught me that taking money for nothing was charity. I want to sell the pictures so I can _earn_ the money. What do you want? I got a cat, a dog, an elephant, a bunny …"

The woman softened even more and requested an elephant. Dean watched as Castiel pulled it out of the folder, rolling it up for her and even placing a ribbon around it, before handing it to the woman with a beaming smile and slight bow.

"Thank you, miss."

As the woman walked away, Castiel locked eyes with Dean and a moment of understanding passed between them, leaving Dean amazed and disbelieving at just how good Castiel was at this. He'd been alone for less than a year and he'd already learned how to manipulate people. It was astonishing, to say the least.

Needless to say, the exchange had drawn a lot of attention and Castiel soon had a flock of people coming over to buy the pictures, most of them having overheard the reason why Castiel was selling his paintings. He didn't have a set price for them, just took whatever people were willing to donate, but nobody donated less than five dollars. Given that there were thirty pictures at least in the wallet, Castiel was going to make over a hundred and fifty dollars.

Whenever it seemed like someone might get suspicious about Castiel being on his own; he called over to Dean about how many pictures he had left and that they could go for lunch soon. The lunchtime rush soon died down, and Castiel beckoned Dean over so they could eat.

"You crafty son of a bitch." Dean muttered as he unpacked the boxes Castiel had made up for them, passing one over and keeping one for himself. Opening it up, he smiled as he recognized Castiel's favourite food. Peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches. But the part that caught his attention the most was the slice of apple pie set aside for him. "Thanks Cas."

Castiel smirked. "I do what I need to in order to survive. And my lies are limited." He muttered back. "How much of it was true? My mom died. I'm selling the paintings to make money for a Christmas present for someone dear to me who doesn't have much money."

Frowning, Dean tried to work out who Castiel was talking about. Then like a bolt of lightning, it hit him.

"Cas… don't… I can't buy you anything in return. There's no way my dad will let me get you anything more than a couple of dollars' worth of candy." Dean protested; his expression one of anguish.

Castiel shrugged. "That doesn't matter." He took a bite of his sandwich. "I don't buy to receive. I just want to get you something special, Dean."

"It matters to me." Dean replied quietly, staring at the floor miserably, his appetite gone. "You do so much for me, Cas. You make me lunch when I have none, you let me stay at your place all of the time, you patch me up when Dad gets angry. And now you want to spend money on me and I can't even return that gesture."

Licking his lips, Castiel was quiet for a long moment, and then he set down his sandwich, taking Dean's hand and squeezing it. "And what do you do for me, huh? What did you do yesterday to help me? Even outside of the stealing for me, you've given me the one thing I can never ever pay back."

Dean looked up and laced his fingers with Castiel's idly. "What's that?"

"A friend." Castiel whispered, meeting Dean's gaze. "Someone to care about. I don't have anyone, Dean. Before I met you, I spent every second I wasn't at school completely silent because I had nobody to talk to. I used to read books aloud just so I could fill the silence. What I do for you is nothing compared to that, nothing. But if it really bothers you, take a share of some of the money we get."

Slowly understanding, Dean eventually nodded in agreement, holding tightly onto Castiel's hand. He couldn't imagine how it must have been for someone so young to spend most hours of the day completely alone. He went from having a family to having nobody, and having to learn to do everything himself. "A dollar each day." He suggested.

"Ten." Castiel countered. "You take ten dollars from each day's take."

Dean shook his head firmly. "No way. You need it way more than I do, Cas. And a nice Christmas gift won't cost that much. Three."

Thinking that through, Castiel let his eyes flicker to Dean again. "Five, and you only use the three on a Christmas present. The other two you keep in a box at my place, saving it up for if you ever need money quickly. Whether it's to get away or to buy something for Sam or whatever."

"Agreed." Dean whispered, holding onto Castiel's hand even tighter, just to distract himself from the tears that stung his eyes. Wiping them surreptitiously, he eventually let go of Castiel in favour of picking his sandwich up again.

Castiel did the same, and they ate until they were out of food. Packing up, Dean returned to his bench and Castiel stayed in his seat to sell the rest of the pictures. They would have to leave to catch their return bus before the dinner rush, but it was Sunday, so most of the people using the station had been away for the weekend and were on their way home. It meant that there were frequent passengers travelling in and out of the station, so hopefully they could sell the rest of the pictures.

The last painting sold just after five thirty, and Castiel packed up, sliding the money deep in the inside pocket of his jacket, which he then zipped closed, just in case anyone had any bright ideas. It wouldn't be the first time someone had seen him do this and tried to lift his earnings. Not that they'd gotten away with it.

It was just after seven by the time they'd gotten back to Lawrence, and Castiel had a word with Gabriel, who took a little detour in favour of letting them off at the opposite end of the woods, where Dean had dropped his bike off to get to Castiel's place. It meant they didn't have to walk through the woods to get there and then Castiel didn't have to make two trips.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Cas." Dean promised, with a warm smile. "You can let me know how much you got."

"Two hundred and fourteen dollars." Castiel replied with a grin. "I kept track as I sold each painting. And that's not including what I got from the wallets on the way. See you tomorrow, Dean."

Dean watched Castiel disappear into the woods and smiled fondly after his best friend, before unchaining his bike and cycling home. He put his bike away in the shed, locking the padlock after him and then crept up to the front door, quietly letting himself inside. He didn't want to disturb John if he was watching TV or something.

Silently, Dean kicked off his shoes and went to check on his brother, coming face-to-face with John as he pushed open the living room door. Immediately, he straightened up and looked as respectful as possible, the bruise on his cheek a reminder of what would happen if he crossed his father.

John looked at him silently and walked past him, heading for the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway, he looked back at Dean. "You did good, keeping out of my way all day, Dean. At least you know how to obey an order, considering you're not good for anything else."

"Thank you, sir." Dean replied quietly, heading through to his bedroom with a sigh of relief that he wasn't going to be beaten tonight. Even the sting of John's words didn't cut as deeply tonight, the excitement from the weekend with Castiel deflecting most of the pain.

So when sleep came, for the first time in a while it came easy. And when Dean woke up for school, he got Sammy his breakfast and filled in the worksheet for Miss Harvelle while he spooned a bowl of Lucky Charms into his mouth.

Arriving at school, he walked up to Miss Harvelle and beamed as he handed in his worksheet, with everything on it filled in this time, from his plans to live with Cas, to his occupation. Miss Harvelle sighed as she looked over the sheet.

"Dean, honey? Did you watch a movie over the weekend?"

Surprised at the question, Dean turned around and smiled charmingly at his favourite teacher. "Yes, Miss. I watched Ocean's Eleven with Cas."

Nodding, a knowing smile on her face, Miss Harvelle took the worksheet and placed it on her desk with a small amount of exasperation.

_Dream Job: Master Thief._

* * *

**If you liked it, please let me know what you think, I haven't had much feedback so far. So drop me a review if you can!**


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